Friday, September 28, 2012
Second Cup—Poetry Friday
The Arc of Grace
The arc of grace is ever-widening,
more including, as the judgment seat
into mercy seat:
Like my eyesight,
the lines of my certainties blur.
The stark outline of my dogma wavers;
even faces—the palimpsests, those
bothersome hard to read words between
the lines, emerge and demand
attention—attention I want to give
even as I am fearful they will
obscure my convictions and leave me
surprised and wondering.
From the very top of the long,
green stalks—gladiolii, I thought, perhaps;
instead spring lovely white and yellow iris blooms—
iris orientalis—that seem somehow tacked on, added, as if
some one came along and said, these
tall growing spear stalks need
Here, these will do.
Surprises, delicate anomalies.